Draco Malfoy and the Pesky Muggle Cafés
by RedStalkingDeath
Summary: The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - Season 4, Finale Round 1. Chaser 3 for Pride of Portree.


**The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - Season 4, Finale Round 1**

 **Team: Pride of Portree**

 **Position: Chaser 3**

 **Player 7: "An example of foreshadowing AND an example of juxtaposition"**

 **Player 6's OTP: Draco/Hermione**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **1\. (dialogue) "We buy one every month!"**

 **3\. (setting) a Muggle café**

 **13\. (word) tradition**

 **Wordcount: 1154**

* * *

 **Draco Malfoy and the Pesky Muggle Cafés**

Hermione Granger was sitting calmly by the window of a small Muggle café in the heart of London, alternating between looking at the people passing by on the street outside, clutching their umbrellas against the breeze to avoid the pouring rain, and the selection of people that had chosen to seek refuge for a while in the same place as her. A couple entered and sat down at a nearby table, the woman seemingly struggling to close her pink umbrella, while the man was scowling.

Every two minutes or so, the young witch would cast a brief glance at her watch, wondering what was keeping her boyfriend. Draco Malfoy was officially late, and Malfoys were _never_ late!

It had become a tradition of sorts for the two of them to meet up for a date at a Muggle café at least once a month to get away from the pressures of their daily lives in the Wizarding World. It was at these times when they could be just a normal couple enjoying each other's company over a steaming cup of coffee.

And if anyone from their own world should ever figure out their habits and try to follow them, they still would not be easy to find, as they never went to the same café twice. That part of the arrangement was on Draco's insistence; not because he was paranoid, but because he refused to settle for a café to be called theirs before he was absolutely sure it was the very best Muggle London had to offer.

The former Slytherin seemed to have an aversion to Muggle technology — apparently, he found the notion that anything could work, and even move around, without the aid of magic to be highly disturbing — so the Muggle-born witch had noticed that the more "modern" the café looked, the more on edge he would be. If, on the other hand, it had a more old-fashioned look, he would appear almost comfortable in his surroundings. But, in the end, he always found a fault with every place they visited, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant it might be.

Which was why she was quite curious about how he would take to her choice this time. It was a nice, little café in the corner of one of the relatively quiet streets of the city, with soft chairs and muted colours — unlike the one they had gone to the month before, where the colours had been a glaring blend of a strong, neon palette, and the music had been a mix of pop and rap — and had an overall cosy atmosphere. Hopefully, Draco would agree, as she certainly wouldn't mind frequenting this particular café regularly.

The former Gryffindor was starting to get worried when she caught sight of the very person she wanted to see. He strolled leisurely in, half an hour late, nose pointing determinedly towards the ceiling of the clearly Muggle establishment, fair hair slicked back, not one strand out of place. The young man's appearance stood in stark contrast to her own dark hair, which the current weather had done quite a number on, causing it to stand on end in a frizzy mess around her head.

Was that not one of the greatest fears of girls everywhere? Their boyfriend having better hair than them?

As it was, Hermione prided herself on not being as vain as that, but she still could not help taking notice, as he cut quite a striking figure.

Had the former Slytherin been a Muggle, one would have expected his hair to be firmly stuck to his skull, almost as solid as a helmet and full of sticky hair gel.

But the guy was most assuredly not a Muggle, and she had firsthand experience — quite literally — that the locks of hair that stood firm against the elements were incredibly soft and compliant when being run through by loving fingers. But now was not the time for that.

After greeting him warmly, the young witch, quite curious about what had delayed him so much, asked, "Where have you been?"

Draco had taken the Tube there all by himself that day, travelling through a Muggle city alone, without his Muggle-born girlfriend, for the very first time.

The blond wizard replied quietly, something about taking the scenic route. If it were anyone else, it would have been described as mumbling, but Malfoys don't mumble!

The dark-haired witch was amused in her disbelief. Scenic? On the Underground? Really, there was no way he'd expect her to believe _that_. Obviously, he'd gotten lost, but his pride wouldn't let him admit it. Draco might have mellowed over the years, but he still would never ever consider lowering himself to asking a stranger for help. Especially a Muggle. To be honest, it did not really matter whether they were Muggles or Wizards; he thought himself far above asking for directions from _anyone_.

Of course, Draco Malfoy always had a reply to any accusation people could think to throw at him. Without pause, he claimed that he had wanted to take a closer look at the habits of her family's people. Hermione softened fractionally at that. Even though she knew that was not the case, the fact that he had thought to use it as an excuse proved that the idea had, at the very least, crossed his mind at some point in time. So, deciding to let him keep his pride on that point — she wouldn't want him to start refusing to join her in the Muggle world, after all — they ordered their beverages of choice and settled down for a relaxing afternoon.

* * *

It had been a couple of hours, and Hermione was rather surprised that Draco hadn't found anything to complain about yet.

"We buy one every month!" a man cried out to his girlfriend, waving a broken umbrella around, sending drops of water flying through the air.

The exclamation broke Draco off mid-word. They'd had a lovely time so far, the old fashioned café seemed to be agreeing with him as all Muggle appliances were more or less kept out of sight.

He threw a glare at the couple sitting one of the neighbouring tables, a look of abject distaste upon his pale face. How could anyone make such a nuisance of themselves, especially out in public? Did they have no shame?

Draco turned his gaze back to Hermione, giving her a look that clearly stated — if her interpretation was correct, and she had become quite proficient in reading his various facial expressions over the last year — that they were _never_ coming back to that place.

The bushy-haired witch released a sigh of resignation and disappointment, but she was not the least bit surprised at this turn of events.

Oh, well, at least the coffee had been nothing remarkable, so she wouldn't miss it dearly.


End file.
